the only way out
by DobbyLovesSocks
Summary: Post-war Draco and learning to forgive. Because the first step to forgiving yourself is forgiving everyone else.


**For dimitrisgirl18's Big/Lil' Sister competition, using the prompts: Character: Nymphadora Tonks; Word: quiet; Quote: "The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive." -John Green; Season: spring; Phrase: took my breath away.**

**Word count- 1593**

**Go check out this fic's sister, the labyrinth of suffering, on Exceeds Expectations' page!**

* * *

He had barely spoken since the war. If he did, he wouldn't have known what to say or who to talk to. He couldn't very well tell his parents that he was _glad_ they lost the war, but he also couldn't go up to Potter and his friends and say that after all these years of being a complete prat, he was happy for him. That just wasn't something he could do.

So instead, he wrote everything down that he couldn't say aloud. He poured his every emotion into the small leather journal he had found; all of his anger and sadness and fear. And looking at it, he realised how much of it was just insulting himself and everything he had done.

_"So maybe Father raised me to be like this. But everyone else doesn't do everything their parents tell them to!"_

_"Weasley, Ron Weasley, __actually saved me. And so did Potter. I don't know why; I wouldn't have, if I were them."_

_"I ruined everything the day I started Hogwarts."_

_"I hate myself."_

He kept the notebook in his pocket wherever he went. It almost felt like he had a friend with him, a friend who never comforted and never insulted, a paper one who simply listened to his problems without speaking a word in return.

Crabbe and Goyle were a lot like paper, he realised. _Crabbe._

That one was his fault, too. If he hadn't forced Crabbe and Goyle to follow him everywhere, they wouldn't have ended up in the room with Potter and his friends. And his Aunt Bella... He had never liked her much, to be honest. But she was one of the only people who could make him feel like he was really _worth_ something, like he was more than just a little piece in a much bigger puzzle. Of course a Weasley would have to be the one to take her down. He felt the emptiness beginning to tug at his heart, truly _missing_ his aunt for the first time. She wasn't coming back. And neither was Crabbe.

He stood outside with the sun beating down on him, gazing around the castle that was still partially in ruins. The battle had only been a couple of weeks ago, and the mountains of rubble everywhere made it much more difficult to enjoy an otherwise lovely spring afternoon. Well, the mountains of rubble and the unyielding guilt pressing down on him.

For days, he had been nearly silent. If his mother or father spoke to him, he would reply with one word answers or a jerk of the head, and when he could, he had been keeping to himself. And he was beginning to wonder if he would ever go back to the way he was before. He knew he didn't want to. By now, the sudden shock and terror of the battle had worn off, and one emotion took over all the rest: Self-loathing. Glowering, Draco stared over a metal railing, almost tempted to jump off and just put an end to it all. But he knew he couldn't do that. He was too self-centred to just stop living, he figured, digging his fingernails into his leg. He cared too much about himself to die.

"Sometimes I really fucking hate myself," he growled, spitting over the railing. "I just-"

"Hey." Draco turned around, his eyebrows narrowed.

"Astoria, isn't it?" he said quietly. "What do you want?" It was the most words he had spoken to someone in a week, and he noticed for the first time the slight hoarseness to his voice. She glared at him.

"I don't _want_ anything, Malfoy. I just saw you out here alone, and I thought maybe you'd want some company. You actually seemed almost human, for once. Clearly, though, I was wrong about that." She turned on her heel as if to walk away, but at the last moment she turned back, waiting for a response. After a long pause, Draco spoke.

"What do you mean I seemed 'almost human'?" he asked coolly.

"I mean you seemed more like an actual person than the monster you've pretended to be for the past seven years," she replied, not missing a beat. "You always seemed so distant, so out of touch from actual people and emotions and _caring,_ but just now, I thought you looked different. Clearly I was wrong." Draco frowned. Astoria was right, he knew that in his heart. But she was also a year younger than him, and a girl, and it wasn't in his nature to apologize that easily, no matter how much he agreed with her. So of course, he fought back.

"How should you know what I'm like? You've never even spoken to me before."

"I daresay you've made yourself known," she replied, smirking slightly. Almost immediately, though, her face turned serious again, her light brown hair whipping across her face in the wind. "You're one of the main reasons that Slytherin has the reputation it does," she snapped. "Everyone thinks we're all complete prats who enjoy causing others pain, and only care about ourselves. And you know what? Maybe that wouldn't be the case if you and your little friends hadn't acted the way you did! But we'll never know, will we?" She paused to breathe. "Some of things you and your friends did took my breath away. You were downright _awful_ to innocent first-years, and God-_forbid_ someone was Muggle-born..."

"Hey," Draco protested, "We..." His voice trailed off. They _what?_ Everything she said was true, and that's what made it so hard to bear. He wanted to hate the girl. He wanted to push her away like he did the rest of the world and move on. But something about her wouldn't let him do that, and suddenly, he found himself talking, and unable to stop.

"Look, I'm horrible, alright?" he snapped. "I was terrible, but you try growing up with parents who teach you that you're above the rest of the world, and that everyone below you doesn't matter! A lot of children grow up just listening to their parents, Astoria. And I hate myself for being one of them. I absolutely hate it. But there's nothing we can do about it now. If I hadn't listened to them, maybe I could have helped Potter win. Maybe not so many people would have died. Maybe my parents could have left Voldemort and joined Potter's side. But you're right- _we just don't know._ And we never will, now. I already told you- I know a lot of this was my fault. Now give me a break; I don't need anyone else hating me, at the moment."

Astoria looked at him for a moment, her eyes scanning every inch of his body.

"Well maybe you should just give yourself a break," she said quietly. "Hating yourself isn't going to get you anywhere. What's done is done, yes, but you can still try to be a better person, now." Draco stared at her, dumbfounded.

"A minute ago you were going on about how much you hated me and how terrible my friends and I all were, and now you're telling me to basically forget about what a git I was, and live in the moment?" He frowned slightly, his grey eyes cold. "Make up your mind." Sighing, she shook her head at him.

"Look, Draco," she said. "You were a complete prat, yes, and I couldn't stand you. I'm not even so sure about you now, to be honest. But the only way that people are able to stop suffering completely is by forgiving. The war has taken a toll on all of us, and really, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to stop the suffering. So I'm trying to forgive you, and in doing that, I'm telling you that you should also try to forgive yourself."

_Forgive yourself._ It was a crazy idea, he thought. After everything he had done, forgiving himself seemed like the last thing he would be able to do.

"I'll be inside," she said quietly, gently putting a hand on Draco's shoulder. He flinched. "You coming?"

"I... I'll be there in a minute," he replied. "Just need to do something." Astoria nodded, and turned herself so that their faces were just inches apart. She leaned in to him so that her lips were nearly touching his ear and he could feel her warm breath on his neck. He shivered.

"Just remember that the first step to forgiving yourself is forgiving everyone else," she murmured, her lips brushing against his ear.

Then without another word, she ran off with a bounce in her step and a cocky grin on her lips. Once she was out of sight, Draco walked into the sea of graves until he found the one he was looking for. _Nymphadora Tonks._

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I wasn't fair to you. I mean, I never talked to you, but I didn't _think_ enough of you. Your mum was always the 'weird' one in my family, the traitor. But... I-I suppose I'm glad that I can say you're related to me. I hope that your son grows up to be the hero that you were."

Sighing, he stepped away from the grave. He was still furious with himself for everything he had done and said and allowed himself to believe. But forgiving others was the first step to forgiving himself.

He ran back toward the castle to find Astoria, and found that each step was a bit lighter than the last.


End file.
